Grief is like a furnace - plunged inside and you become malleable, molten putty. It can change the most outgoing people into hermits, force the most apathetic into becoming proactive.

One thing is for certain though, you’ll never be the same once the flames have cooled, leaving you stuck in a different shape. Nowhere is this more evident than in the loved ones of the 6,000 people each year who die from suicide.

Unless you have been closely affected yourself, it’s likely that the only thought you’ll give to the victims of suicide is when you read about it on the news or your travel plans are delayed; the unnamed man who fell from Scammonden Bridge or the tannoy announcement at Huddersfield Railway Station.

Just pictures, names, obituaries, newspaper reports. Then we get on with our day.

But a human life is not a single thread, and the victims of suicide are not just those who take their own lives; they are the parents, partners, brothers, sisters, sons, daughters, and friends. For every person who dies from suicide, there are multiple more sentenced to unimaginable pain, awkward looks in the street, trauma and “what ifs”. Suicide is not, contrary to ignorant opinion, selfish. It does, however, leave behind a trail of devastation passing one person's pain onto many others.

We have never been so transparent in our discussion about mental health. But when it comes to suicide, we become uncomfortable. In an effort to change that, ExaminerLive reporter Susie Beever spoke to four people who have been bereaved by one of the biggest killers of young people, and the single biggest killer of men under 50.

'I still have flashbacks of seeing him like that'

Julie Armitage

Julie Armitage and her partner of nine years Richard Norgate had never been so happy. Living in Scholes , the two thought they had gotten through the darkest days of Richard’s depression. They’d just been on a walking holiday and had taken up dancing classes. All that changed on the morning of April 1, 2017. Richard, a dad-of-two, got up early for his job as a self-employed builder. He had his breakfast, prepared his food for the day, and walked out the front door. Just one hour later, he was found by a neighbour in his van, covered in blood from multiple self-inflicted knife wounds . The sight is something that Julie will live with for the rest of her life.

Julie Armitage and her partner Richard Norgate pictured on a day out the week before he died

We meet at Julie's counselling practice in the village, just yards from the home they shared. She tells me the morning Richard died is one that is permanently carved in her memory.

“I had a knock on the door at 8.30am. My neighbour said, ‘Richard’s in his van and there’s blood everywhere’. We rushed out and as soon as I saw him, I knew he was dead.” The trauma is something that still affects her to this day.

Julie Armitage was traumatised by finding her partner Richard's body when he took his own life

“Seeing him like that has had a massive impact on me. There are triggers everywhere. The image is something that has stuck in my mind and I get a lot of flashbacks. Just the other day I was watching Coronation Street and someone made a throat-slitting gesture with their hands and it set me off.”

A trained counsellor, Julie is used to discussing difficult topics. But ever since Richard’s suicide, she has noticed how people avoid the issue out of embarrassment or awkwardness. “People would cross the street because they didn’t know how to talk to me”, she adds. “People don’t know how to approach the subject, so they just don’t. For a long time, I felt very isolated. It makes you realise who your real friends are.

'People would cross the street because they didn't know how to talk to me'

“The one thing I would ask Richard, if he were here, is why? I am plagued by the ‘what ifs’. What if I had gotten up just an hour earlier when he did that morning? What if I’d asked him if he was really okay? What happened in that one hour between him going about his morning routine, planning for the day, and then being found after taking his own life? It’s something I will ask myself for the rest of my life.”

Julie now runs a support group for anyone bereaved by suicide. You can email her for more details on juliearmitage4@hotmail.co.uk.

Julie Armitage and her partner Richard Norgate enjoying a day trip together the week before he died. She has subsequently launched a support group for people who have lost a loved one to suicide.

'I grew up angry at my dad for leaving me but it’s shaped who I am'

Ellie Macdonald

A bright, successful and infectiously-positive PR agency owner, you would never think Ellie Macdonald had grown up coming to terms with the worst tragedy imaginable. We meet in a coffee shop in Leeds city centre’s financial quarter, just round the corner from the MacComms office which she set up in Huddersfield three years ago. Ellie was four when her father, Neil Parkin, was found hanged at the family home in 1989 aged just 29 - three years younger than she is now. Growing up without a dad caused her anger and self esteem issues as she tried to grasp why he did what he did, but that was ultimately what made her decide to study psychology at the University of Huddersfield .

Ellie Macdonald, who lost her father Neil to suicide when she was four-years-old

“As a child, I just remember being confused and really sad”, she tells me. “I wished I could have done something to help even though I was just a girl. My mum and grandma told me all the time how much my dad loved me, and that we would sit in the garden like a little secret club. So I didn’t understand why he would leave me. I was angry at him. I was angry at my mum too, because she had been planning on leaving Dad for someone else and part of me for a long time blamed her.

“I had issues with my self-esteem growing up because of his suicide, and I’ve ended relationships early because I thought they would leave me.”

Ellie has few real memories of her dad, but says parts of his personality have stuck with her. “Like him, I’m a huge 80s rock fan and walked down the aisle to Romeo and Juliet by the Dire Straits”, she says. “It’s weird because I don’t have any memories of Dad’s voice, but I have still dreamt about him. I remember dreaming we were stood in a field picking flowers and I woke up with my hands clutched, like I was holding a bunch of them. I was devastated when I realised it was a dream, I so wanted it to be true.”

'I wished I could have done something to help even though I was just a girl'

“Even though I talk about Dad a lot, I can’t bring myself to talk about the actual suicide. It feels like a kick in the stomach.” And Ellie does talk about her dad. It’s a way for her to keep him alive and know that despite what he was feeling at the time of his death, and despite his flaws, he was here and he mattered.

Ellie Macdonald as a young girl, with her late father Neil Parkin who took his own life (Image: Ellie Macdonald)

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'It leaves you with guilt and questions you would never have if they died of an illness'

Gemma Smith

It was a normal day at work when Gemma Smith's dad John called. Picking up the phone, her life changed forever. "Richard's been found dead". Gemma froze.

That was only six months ago in March this year. Farmer and landscaper Richard Smith, 40, killed himself by carbon monoxide poisoning in his van at Storthes Hall woods, only minutes from where he lived with Gemma in Thurstonland. He had been struggling with relationship problems with his ex-partner, to whom police later recovered text messages sent on the morning of his death.

I meet Gemma at the family home.

Gemma Smith with brother Richard Smith, who took his own life in March this year (Image: Gemma Smith)

"Richard was a very loving and kind soul. He would do anything for anyone", she tells me. "He was the type of person who would get home from work and cut the neighbour's grass for no reason other than noticing it needed doing. He had his demons, but at the time of his death he was loving life. He was going out with friends, had a good job and seemed happy."

'Depression is like being forced to stay awake when all you want to do is shut your eyes'

Gemma, 35, a plumber, has been attending support groups for suicide bereavement over recent months as she tries to come to terms with losing her older brother, to whom she was extremely close. "It leaves you full of guilt and asking, 'should I, would I, could I'. You wonder if one thing had been done differently, would they still be here? And the worst thing is you'll never, ever get to find out. You wouldn't get that if a person had died naturally, say from cancer. It means there's no sense of closure.

Richard Smith (centre) who took his life. Pictured with his dad John (left) and brother Matthew (right) (Image: Gemma Smith)

"I have struggled myself and I get it. For that reason, there are some days I'm really angry at Richard for leaving me here, but at the same time I understand he couldn't take it anymore and I wouldn't want him to be in pain.

"I just wish people would understand the reality of mental illness; depression is like being told to stay awake when all you want to do is shut your eyes. You're being forced to stay alive when you feel like there's nothing to keep you here. Imagine your first ever heartbreak and that feeling that you'll never get over it, then imagine living that feeling forever."

Richard Smith, who took his own life. Pictured with his dogs who he was buried alongside (Image: Gemma Smith)

Suicide statistics

There were 5,821 recorded suicides in the UK last year. This was down from 6,213 the year before.*

Men are three times more likely to take their own lives than women, accounting for 75% of suicides. Suicide is the biggest killer of men under the age of 45 - bigger than cancer and road deaths.

Scotland has the highest suicide rate in Great Britain, with 13.9 deaths per 100,000 people. England has the lowest, with 9.2 for the same amount of people.

Regionally, Yorkshire and the Humber has one of the highest suicide rates in England. It had 10 deaths per 100,000 people last year, with only the North East, South West and North West higher. London had the lowest rate.

Men aged between 45 and 59 have the highest suicide rate. It’s thought this may be due to this group being the most likely to be affected by economic adversity, alcoholism and isolation, while also the least inclined to ask for help.

* All statistics provided by the Office of National Statistics

'No one had a clue - there were no signs'

Luke Ambler

Andy Roberts was just 23. A popular young sportsman and doting dad to his two-year-old daughter, he had been playing football just two days before he was found hanged in woods in April 2016. His friends and family had no idea he was struggling. Andy's brother-in-law Luke Ambler, a former player for Halifax RLFC, was so grief-stricken by what happened, it led him to set up Andy's Man Club, an outlet for men to get together and talk about their mental health in order to prevent further tragedies. Dad-of-two Luke, 28, says Andy's death ripped the family apart.

Luke Ambler, founder of the Andy's Man Club following his brother-in-law's suicide earlier this year (Image: Andy's Man Club Facebook)

"We were just devastated - words can't explain", he tells me. "He just went completely off the loop. He was playing football on the Sunday, then chatting with his friends on Monday only the day before. On Tuesday, he was dead. It is just the worst news you can ever be given, the worst pain I have ever been through. He had no history of depression - nothing at all. Often with these things no one has a clue what's going on."

"It is the worst pain I have ever been through"

Andy's daughter was just two when he died, and is still too young to understand what happened. "She just knows Daddy isn't here anymore", Luke adds.

Andy Roberts, who died earlier this year, and is the inspiration for Andy's Man Club, founded by former rugby player Luke Ambler

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Luke says that the pain left by suicide "never goes away", and that talking is the best solution. Andy's Man Club has gone on to help hundreds of men either struggling with their own mental health, or who have been bereaved themselves by suicide. The charity holds regular meetings in Huddersfield, Dewsbury and Halifax.